


if you can’t say it at yule

by Magali_Dragon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Romance, F/M, Inspired by Love Actually, Jonerys Advent 2020, Military Man Jon, Prime Minister Dany
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magali_Dragon/pseuds/Magali_Dragon
Summary: Prime Minister Daenerys Targaryen is immediately smitten with her military liaison officer Jon Snow, who is also interested in her.  Some misunderstandings might end up leading to a Yuletide surprise...and confession.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 74
Kudos: 375





	if you can’t say it at yule

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Jonerys Advent 2020! **Throws confetti** Excited for this fun Tumblr event, thank you LadyTarg/iceandfiresource for organizing!
> 
> I hope everyone has fun with this fluffy remix of David and Natalie in “Love Actually.” But with a twist and a little update. 
> 
> Enjoy!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185802593@N06/50658424937/in/dateposted-public/)

* * *

It was here, the day, the day of all days, the day every child in all the realm envisioned, waking up early in the morning, vibrating with excitement, and it had finally arrived. Daenerys Targaryen could hardly contain herself, the car hardly coming to a stop before she was bundling her trademark red coat over her black sheath dress, and eagerly slid one leg out of the car as soon as her protection officer tugged on the outside handle.

It was the day she had officially become Prime Minister.

Cameras flashed, reporters shouted, and crowds cheered, gathered all down the street outside of the famous entrance to Maegor’s Holdfast, where the Prime Minister worked and resided. It was cramped, people wedged everywhere they could in the old keep, left standing after centuries of governance. It was all hers now, which she delighted in, waving and grinning, her silver curls bouncing on her shoulders, a crowd of braids around her head, and her exuberance unbound. 

They were going to do such good things, she thought, laughing as people called her name. She stepped backwards, already seeing her adviser Tyrion moving along the sides, signaling to wrap it up. She waved again, turning and walking up the steps to the large red door, with its old-fashioned dragon-head knocker. She glanced down at Tyrion, amused at his exasperated sigh. “What? I thought you loved when I played to the crowds?”

He grumbled. “I do, but we have work to do.” He walked ahead of her into the lobby, gesturing a hand forward. “I’d like to introduce you to the household staff first, before we meet with your primary policy advisors.” 

“Bloody fucking…” 

Dany whipped her head around to the source of an echoing bang in the entryway, most of the staff following the sound too, startled. It appeared to have come from a man about her age, who had pushed through one of the doors from the office wing, holding a bundle of papers under his arm and a wide-eyed surprised expression on his comely face. He stood straight, sheepishly smiling. “Um…sorry.” He moved to stand over with a few other advisors she’d met already, foreign and domestic policy mostly. 

She didn’t recognize him, but Tyrion did. He looked over and rolled his eyes, groaning. He straightened up, teeth grinding. “But first, I suppose, I will introduce you to Lieutenant Colonel Jon Snow. Lieutenant Colonel Snow will be your liaison to the Northern Province.”

_Oh, well, that boded well for their Northern relations._ It was a difficult relationship, with the North operating in a pseudo-independent status with their own Parliament, premier, and economy, despite their inclusion in the United Provinces of Westeros. She stepped away from the receiving line, offering her hand, and drank in the lovely sight of Jon Snow. Dark curls, pale skin, dark cropped beard, and a well-fitting black suit with vest and no tie. She liked the look. “Jon Snow,” she greeted. She arched an eyebrow and teased. “Appropriate last name for someone from the North.”

He managed a small smile, his handshake firm and strong. She noted his eyes were gray, the corners crinkling with the upward curve of his lips. “Prime Minister. Apologies, I was running late, I didn’t realize you had already arrived.” He didn’t seem bothered by being late, nor was his apology very sincere. 

She arched her brow, amused as many would be falling over themselves in apology for not only being late, but cursing in front of her too. It was human nature when confronted with embarrassment in the presence of someone of power or authority. “No apology necessary,” she said. She tilted her head to the side, curious about him. She had a bit of a fascination with the North. “Are you Westerosi military then?”

“Colonel Snow is the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, he is here on detail assignment,” Tyrion explained. He puffed his chest out a bit. “A bit of a coup I will say as he did not want to leave the Wall, although for what reason I have no idea. I quite like him, he’s here as favor to me.”

“Oh, I haven’t been to the Wall yet. I very much look forward to it,” Dany said, not at all lying, she truly wanted to see the monstrous border wall in the North. Especially about this time of year, with the winter holidays approaching in less than three weeks. 

To her shock and something of horror, Jon Snow snorted and rolled his eyes. “With all due respect ma’am, no one really wants to see the North or the Wall. You’ll freeze your balls…” he trailed off, running his tongue over his teeth, catching himself while everyone else around gasped and someone even shrieked, terrified at his misstep. Except for him. He shrugged. “Freeze off whatever.” 

She gaped, having never been spoken to like that by anyone in the military or really at all. It was as though the second she became Prime Minister even the men and women who were calling for her abject destruction at least pretended to be sycophantic around her. Further, most men, especially the military ones, were irritated by her power, control, and obvious femininity which she refused to tone down just because she was Prime Minister. She was used to it. But this…my gods. 

She glanced at horrified Tyrion, hiding behind his portfolio. “I thought you said you liked this man,” she murmured. 

Tyrion dropped the portfolio, glaring at Jon. “I _do_. Although right now I really don’t.”

Jon lifted his chin, defiant. “Looking forward to working with you Prime Minister Targaryen.”

Dany narrowed her eyes, taking a step backwards, not sure if that was real or not, but when she turned her head, as Tyrion led her off to meet the staff like they planned initially, she caught sight of Jon Snow, who briefly smiled at her and turned when someone nudged him, trying to reprimand him for his obvious fuck up, but he didn’t care. 

And she was surprised to find she didn’t either. If anything, she wanted to know more about him. 

* * *

“Alright everyone, let’s buckle down, we’ve got a lot to get through with respect to preparations for the Free Folk visit,” Tyrion announced, finally taking his seat after passing around agendas and discussion points for the afternoon’s strategy session. 

The large table in the former ‘Tower of the Hand’ as it used to be called for Small Council meetings was worn down through decades of use, the Prime Minister sitting in the center on the side closest to the overarching windows gazing out upon the Blackwater Bay. It gave Daenerys the upper hand, so to speak, but at the moment it made her long to turn around and actually look at the water, while her view consisted of a line of her advisors and Small Council members and the courtyard of the Map Room. 

It used to be open, but with the changing of seasons it now had a roof with huge skylights, allowing in the bright sunlight, but today actually contained a dusting of snow. Daenerys looked forward to the holidays very much, even if she didn’t particularly celebrate the Yuletide like most of the kingdom. Especially not the North, they went all in. She supposed that was why they were hosting the Free Folk in the Capitol and not up at White Harbor or Eastwatch, usual locations. 

Politics being what they were, it made more sense to force them to come to her. A power move, and one they’d actually taken. “Let’s not forget,” she announced, leaning forward in her seat, her arse a bit numb from the long morning session discussion economic policies and decisions. They had a shit mess to clean up from Robert Baratheon, plunging them into debt and spending like it was his personal stash for golf trips and family vacations. “The relations between the Free Folk and the North have been strained for centuries. We are only trying to provide mediation. We cannot allow them to hurt our citizens, but we also cannot allow the Northerners to bully people who are only trying to see health, safety, and jobs for their families.” 

She had a special place in her heart for the Free Folk. People on the edge of the world, like she had once been, and she opened up her folder to start discussing matters. “Who is coming from the committee?” asked Missandei, her Master of Laws, and one of her very best friends. She peered up. “Last I heard they hadn’t determined it yet.”

Tyrion flicked his page back. “They’re sending Ygritte Wilde, she’s their chief military strategist. Certainly not a good omen, I say. She’s brutal.”

Dany looked at the bio sheet for the Free Folk leader, one of the committee heads. They could have sent their chief, as they called him, Mance Rayder, but instead wanted to send in the military woman. She sighed, nodding. “Well we will handle it as we handle anything, with tact, diplomacy, and if necessary, fire and blood.” She shifted in her seat, turning and looking up and down the table, not seeing anyone from the actual military who might have any knowledge of the issue. 

_Namely one Jon Snow_. 

Dany mumbled to herself. “Who do I have to murder to get a military liaison in here?” 

The door opened, Jon entering, in his black military uniform, the insignia along his shoulders, lapels, and breast pocket gleaming silver and bright colors. He flashed a quick smile to Tyrion and smirked at her. “Prime Minister.”

“You’re late again,” she said, cheeks warming. He looked very good in that uniform. His dark curls, too long for the military but acceptable for the Night’s Watch—who had lax standards about that sort of thing—were pulled back in a neat knot at the base of his neck. 

He opened up his folder. “Apologies ma’am, I was just in a call with the Northern premier.” 

“Your uncle,” Tyrion reminded everyone, a subtle tone to keep from disparaging Lord Ned Stark. 

“Aye,” Jon said, scowling. He cleared his throat. “Lord Stark will be accompanying the Free Folk from Eastwatch. They’ll be here next week.” He tapped a pen on the papers in front of him, meeting her gaze across the large table. “So shall we get to work?”

Dany gulped; her palms sweaty. She was furious with herself at being so put off by this man. She was the most powerful woman in the world. She nodded, speaking loudly. “Yes, let’s get to work.”

And did not take her eyes off Jon Snow for the rest of the meeting.

* * *

“Thank you Missandei, I appreciate the update.” Dany walked Missy to her office door, turning the knob and opening it at the same time on the other side of the threshold, Jon Snow was about to knock, holding several folders and a cup of tea. She jumped, surprised. “Oh my! Jon! Um…come in, please.” 

Missandei rolled her eyes slowly towards her, dark brow arching, smirking. “Prime Minister.”

Dany grit her teeth at Missandei, murmuring to her as she saw her out to the outer office. “Not a word from you.”

Missy turned and mimed zipping her lips, still smiling upon her exit from the office. She was incorrigible, Dany figured, returning to the office, where Jon was setting the folders in her inbox. “These came through from Parliament and I ran into your PA who had to take a call, didn’t want your tea to get cold.” He nodded to the cup sitting innocently atop her diary, complete with the spoon and lemon wedge Grey always provided her. He nodded, heels clicking together in a tight bow as he left the office. 

He was partway out the door when she blurted out his name, turning sharply on her heel, following his departure. “Jon.” It was a nice name. She smiled, trying to seem unbothered by the strange effect this man had on her. Unlike everyone else she’d met, he made her palms sweat, her heartbeat quicken. 

At the door, he bowed his head, a tiny smile curving on his delicious lips. “Yes,” he replied. “Jon Snow.”

“Jon Snow. Curious name.” She arched her brows. “Your uncle is Lord Ned Stark?”

“Aye.” He stiffened; no doubt used to the grilling he got about the famous premier. He had a chip on his shoulder about it, her research had revealed. Went by the name they used to give bastards in the North, centuries ago, because he didn’t know his father and didn’t want to take the Stark name. Thought people would think he got his position through nepotism. She knew something about that, being a Targaryen. Famous in the business world, founders of the damn country, a thousand years ago or more.

She chuckled, shifting on her high heels, the bottoms digging into the plush carpeting and leaving tiny divots in her wake. “He’s a nice man…bit of a bore.”

That got a little wider of a smile out of Jon, but he replied politically. “He has been known to be a bit predictable, ma’am.”

“Any inside tips?” she teased, not expecting him to give anything up. For his all his utter disinterest in his position, he was very good at it, as well as professional. First interaction notwithstanding. 

Jon merely smiled, stepping backwards. “Don’t try to make him laugh, it doesn’t work.” He nodded to her, and left, closing the door behind him. 

_What the seven hells did that mean?_ She ran her tongue over her teeth and clicked it against the roof of her mouth, eyes rolling. Somewhat mortified at her reaction to him. She hated how he annoyed her and also attracted her. Foolish girl, she chastised herself, walking around to take a seat at her giant dragonglass desk. She picked up her tea, sipped it, and set it back down, before reaching to collect the folders he’d dropped off.

Except her mind kept returning to Jon. She rolled her eyes again. “Come on, get a grip,” Dany muttered to herself. She stood back up, arms crossing, and paced a moment, ending up in front of a large gilded mirror above the hearth. The reflection glared back, annoyed at her schoolgirl behavior. She pointed a finger to herself, speaking clearly, resolute. “You are the Prime Minister for god’s sakes Daenerys. Act like it!”

* * *

It happened again, a week later and a few days before the Free Folk summit. She had been working diligently on her opening remarks to Ms. Wilde, having spent a majority of the time watching the woman’s fiery speeches, protests, and reading some of her comments on the negotiations with the Northern province. She wasn’t sure she liked this woman, based on what she’d seen. It appeared that for Ygritte, blowing something up was her version of _diplomacy_. 

She looked up when there was a light knock on the door. “Come in,” she called, straightening up, a vertebrae or two popping in her spine. She shivered, feeling slightly looser, and peered up to find Jon Snow in her doorway. She swallowed a dry sticky lump that formed immediately at the sight of him, in his black vest and pants, black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. The deference to his military status was the simple lapel pin with the black shield of the Night’s Watch. She smiled, feeling awkward in her laid-back attire—suit jacket hung up, collar undone, and shirt untucked from her skirt. Her toes were curling in the carpet, shoes kicked aside under the desk. “Oh, hello…hello Colonel.”

His lips twitched, setting down a sheaf of folders in her inbox. He lifted up one of them. “Do you have a moment? I wanted to go over protocol.”

“Protocol?”

“With the Free Folk. I want you to know they will not bow, so do not expect it.” 

She nodded; she’d been briefed on this already but wanted to hear him say it. “Yes, I understand.”

“Also Ygritte…” he trailed off, catching himself. “Um, Ms. Wilde—she will come right out, so don’t get too angry too fast. She thrives on it.” He took a seat, at her gesture, and went over a few more things. Ned would be wearing traditional Northern attire—kilt and sporran—for the initial meeting, but she needn’t worry about wearing the traditional Prime Minister robes that she had to wear for official openings of Parliament. She smiled politely throughout, watching his passion get up when discussing the strategy of dealing with the Free Folk. 

After about twenty minutes or so, he finished, and narrowed his eyes briefly. “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he commented suddenly. 

The non-sequitur startled her. She touched her nose, gasping. Her glasses! She pulled them off, laughing softly. “Sorry, I didn’t realize…they’re whimsical I know.” They were red, large-framed, with black rhinestones in the corners. She used them for long stretches of reading, which she’d been doing of late. She closed the case around them, still stuttering, embarrassed. “Not very prime minister, I know.”

“I like them,” he murmured. He hesitated and leaned forward, rolling his gray eyes to the open door. He darted his gaze between them, like they had a secret. “I shouldn’t say this, but…I was hoping you’d win.”

_What!?_ The boldness of him had already attracted her, now it swelled inside of her. “Oh…really?” she chuckled. She made a show of looking to the door, smirking at his startled expression, fearful. She rolled her eyes when he frowned, not amused at her little jest. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I did not realize you were supportive. Your introduction notwithstanding.”

“I’m military, I serve whoever is in the seat, but my stint away from the Wall was coming up and I’d rather work for you than for the other guy.” He made a face. “Even if Robert was a friend of my uncle’s. I don’t have to spell out acronyms or worry that there’s something more than tea in your cup.”

Dany picked up the teacup and made a show of sipping the leftover cold dregs, smacking her lips and widening her eyes. “Hmm…essence of vanilla, chai, and…whiskey.” 

Jon smiled; it met his eyes. It was how she’d begun to realize when they were real or merely indulgent. He stood, heels clicking and bowing slightly in the traditional departure move. “Ma’am.”

“Jon,” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. He turned, waiting for her to request something of him. She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “I…I feel like we have been working so closely together these last couple of weeks and I hardly know anything about you but you…you know a lot about me. So…um, tell me something about yourself. Something I can’t find in your bio. Something I don’t know.”

He glanced over his shoulder again; she hoped he did not have somewhere else to be. If he did, he ignored it, and walked a few more steps into the office, towards her desk. He kept his arms loose at his sides, fingers tucked tight around the files he held. “There’s not much to know.”

“Well, um…” Dany’s mind raced. This was more difficult than trying to win a debate against Petyr Baelish or getting a septon to swear. She gestured to him, the first thing that popped into her head coming out of her mouth. “Do you live here in King’s Landing? Permanently?”

It was a stupid question given that he was obviously stationed up at the Wall. He shook his head, amused, but indulging her. “No, I don’t. I’m staying with my uncle, at his house here, until I can find temporary lodging. Not many apartments available this time of year.”

“Yes, the holidays can be mad,” she agreed. She continued to smile, urging the conversation forward, still standing behind her desk, fingertips nervously tapping the edge. “And, where…where exactly do you live in King’s Landing? I grew up and spent a lot of time on Dragonstone, I’m not entirely familiar with the vast majority of the neighborhoods here. It’s something I’d like to rectify.”

Jon quirked his lip. “They live off the Street of Silk, in the dodgy end. “

“Ah,” she actually knew that area. Sort of. “My brother lives off the Street of Silk. I think it’s near the Street of Songs.” She cocked her head; he hadn’t said anything about dodgy. Wasn’t somewhere you’d find Rhaegar Targaryen. The area was filled with fancy terrace houses. Turned out rich people like living in the area of town where there used to be whorehouses. “Which exactly is the dodgy end?”

He laughed. “I guess I just call it that, every time I walk outside, I get people staring at me like they’re about to mug me. Probably not used to seeing a military guy. But it’s around the corner from the old Brothel Museum, near the Queen’s Circle.”

“Ah, well…I didn’t realize that your uncle was permanently here.” She swallowed, fishing. It was so improper. She had a reputation to maintain. As the first female Prime Minister, single to boot, she needed to be careful. The media would have a field day, but she…well…Tyrion was always on about her about being too stuck up sometimes. She was just trying to get to know her staff. That’s all. Care about their families. It was the holidays! She needed to send out Yule cards. “And…and do you live there with…with a wife or…”

It was dumb to ask; Jon flashed another quick smile. “The Night’s Watch is traditionally unmarried men,” he politely explained, without necessarily answering. He shook his head, quiet. “So no, I don’t have a wife.”

“Ah, yes.” She was so dumb. She was going straight to the seven hells. “Well, I…”

“To be fair, I did have a girlfriend before I came down here.” He offered it willingly. Her heart plummeted, mouth falling open. Of course he did, he was attractive, smart… “But we broke up a while ago. More of an off and on thing.” He pulled his lips briefly over his teeth, smirking knowingly. “Work can be difficult. This sort of thing. You understand.”

“Of course I do. Difficult to find someone who understands our hours and commitments.” Dany continued to smile at him, while he shifted, becoming as awkward as her. She opened her mouth, about to ask him about his family, or…something, but he thankfully ended this torturous ordeal. 

“I should get back to work. I have a summit to help prepare,” Jon said with a quick grin. He stepped sideways, nodding to her glasses case. “And ah…I won’t tell anyone.”

“Oh?”

“About your glasses.” He pointed to the case. She flushed, nodding quickly and laughing. He hesitated again, debating saying something else, but then nodded fast and left, hurrying away from her. No doubt off to file a report with his superior officer that she was a lecherous predator. 

She fell into her seat and groaned, hitting her head straight forward onto the desk. A hard sigh escaped her. She looked up, propping her head in her palm, and blew a strand of hair out of her face. Her gaze darted towards the oil painting of Aegon the Conqueror, her ancestor, above the fireplace. “You didn’t have this problem did you, huh? Liking a coworker you shouldn’t?” She rolled her eyes at his stern expression, same violet eyes as hers glaring hard. “What do you know Aegon? You were fucking your sisters.”

" _Yeah, but at least I didn’t have to go trolling for a date,_ ” Aegon might as well have snarked.

“You win then,” she mumbled, head hitting the desk again.

* * *

You understand, of course, why we cannot agree to such terms."

The harsh, raspy Northern burr in Ygritte Wilde's voice was nothing like Jon's soft rolling one. After a full day of negotiations, lunch, dinner, and now after dinner drinks that was supposed to be a "working" matter, it hurt Dany's ears. She wasn't sure she could hear another word from the woman without cringing. 

Ygritte was well-dressed, in a simple green sheath dress and blazer, which showed off her deep russet hair, which she kept hanging to her shoulders, kind of stringy in Dany's opinion. The woman did not care about fashion, she was worried about her people, the briefing books said. Dany appreciated that. It was somewhat distracting. 

She forced a smile. "Of course," she murmured, although she did not understand. The Free Folk were not citizens of Westeros, yet they wanted all that that entailed. But they didn't want to do anything about it. Dany couldn't accept that completely. She hated where the North had put her, with their isolationist behavior. She reached for her cup of tea, which thankfully Grey had spiked with a bit of whiskey; she needed it. She swallowed hard, the tea burning, waking her up. "Well," she said briskly, setting it down on the coffee table. 

They were sharing a spot on the couch in her office's separate siting area, her legs crossed primly at her ankles while Ygritte sat on the edge, a coiled spring ready to pounce. She did not look at home in the fancy office or the fancy clothes. Given that she had previously done jail time for her activities, it made sense. 

Dany forced a smile again, the consummate politician, while Ygritte gave her a snarky one back, even scrunching her nose up and eyes crinkling like it was supposed to make it better. They both knew they were playing a game. The hope being that getting the North out of the room might make things easier for the negotiations. "I understand that the Free Folk do not recognize the Northern oversight," she began. 

"We will never kneel, to them or to you," Ygritte interrupted.

"Yes, I am aware." Dany gave another smile and her eyes lit up. "You know, I think there's something you might be interested in seeing. It's a proposal that came across my desk for educational assistance to the children. I know the North has not be fans of the schooling."

"They don't want us to learn so we don't fight back."

"Yes, well, I believe that all children, no matter where they come from, deserve a quality education and I am making a point of it in these talks," Dany said. She nodded to one of the paintings on her wall, done by children at a Dothraki school where she taught in her college days. "From the edge of the world, just like the Free Folk." She stood, brushing her skirt down her thighs and clapped her hands together. "I'll be right back, let me get it."

Ygritte rolled her shrewd green eyes up, not moving from her spot. "Curious to know, where is your military liaison?"

Dany paused at the door. "Jon?" she asked. He'd been in the meetings throughout the day. had disappeared while she had a private dinner with Ygritte in her residence. Her back stiffened. The entire day Ygritte had been throwing comments to Jon, refusing to acknowledge his rank and calling him 'Crow', which Dany had to request she stop, as it was a derogatory name for someone in the Night’s Watch. She knew the Free Folk and the Watch did not get on, both sides were to blame, but it was unnecessary in a civilized discussion. Ygritte had merely smirked, winked at him, and kept up her protests.

She pretended to look in the outer office and shrugged. "I'm unaware, perhaps he left for the day." More likely he was in his office, somewhere in the bowels of the Holdfast. She slipped out the door and into the maze of corridors, alcoves, and offices, to Tyrion's office. He'd left, off to try to wine and dine one of the Free Folk who'd come with Ygritte, a man who only went by Rattleshirt. Dany wished him luck, hoped he returned alive.

The proposal was on the edge of the messy desk and in the process, she knocked over a few things. "Damn," she mumbled, squatting to pick it up. It took her longer than she thought it would, and by the time she got back to her sitting room, Ygritte had been alone a little longer than she would prefer. "Here it is!"

The sight greeting her was not welcome. 

Her gaze darted from Ygritte, who moved back from him, and to Jon, who was as stiff as a board, sitting on the couch, his hands fists on his knees. If she was not mistaken, there was red lipstick that had been on Ygritte’s mouth, now on Jon's mouth. The cat-eating-the-canary grin on the woman's face told her everything. 

"Is there a problem?" she asked, scanning them both.

"Nope," Ygritte chirped. She chuckled. "Right Crow?" She crossed her legs, still grinning up at him, cocky. "No problem at all."

"No," Jon muttered. He stood in a smooth movement and was out the door, brushing right by her without a look, and a mumbled "Madam Prime Minister."

Dany kept her feet in place. She did not know what she witnessed. Or did not witness. She clutched the folder tight, using it as something of a channel for her confusion and anger. Anger she did not understand. She blinked at Ygritte, who was smiling again, an arm over the back of the couch. "You got that proposal you want to give me?" she asked, completely innocent, moving fast over the implication of what might have just occurred between her and the Westerosi military liaison.

"Hmm...yes." She walked around the edge of the couch and sat back down. She cleared her throat, forcing the political smile on her face, and returned to work, more confused than ever. 

* * *

The cheers from the reporters in the press room followed Dany on her way out from the conference, a fuming Ygritte stalking in the opposite direction, no doubt heading straight to the airport. There would be a lot to talk about in future summits, this one Dany liked to think she won. 

She'd decided unilaterally, after hearing Ygritte's harsh words, almost a fucking call for revolution in the halls of the Red Keep, after everything Dany had tried to do for them and all that she was willing to give up to maintain peace between everyone; she decided to change the game.

Her announcement that the Free Folk taking up arms would be considered terrorist action and dealt with accordingly had been a blow for them. She was happy to listen, like she did with the Dothraki, the Unsullied, and all the people of Essos when she was an ambassador to Meereen, Volantis, and Pentos. She said she would provide all haven to children and she would force the North to just deal, but she also wasn't going to let the Free Folk off like how they wanted. 

Ygritte had been furious, embarrassed, and Dany didn't care. She extolled her virtues of patience, her tolerance, and went off on the North as well, sick of their isolationist and xenophobic tendencies. She didn't care. 

As she stormed to her office, Tyrion laughing and catching up behind her, shouting how he had to redo her entire policy portfolio, she bumped right into Jon. He was smiling. "You just made my job considerably harder, thanks," he joked. 

Coolly, she replied. "You can handle it. Give you more time with Ygritte." She had gone over the interactions between the two several times, unable to stop thinking about it, how it bothered her so much when it truly shouldn't.

They needed to maintain a separation. Professionals only. She kept walking. He frowned, following beside her. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, why?"

"You just seem...different."

Dany spun around in front of her desk; he'd followed her into her office unprompted and unwelcome. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "Different? I may have just started a war between the North and the Free Folk and a war between the North and the erst of Westeros." She cocked her head, questioning. "Do you know Ms. Wilde?"

He drew back, frowning. "I..." he trailed off and nodded, quiet. "Yes." Her stomach dropped, nausea rising inside of her. He closed his eyes briefly. "I apologize Madam Prime Minister; I should have been upfront before she arrived. I believed I could maintain a separation, but it appears Ms. Wilde did not. We were in university together. She's always been..." He sighed and forced a smile, tight and angry. "Flirtatious." Immediately chagrined, he apologized. "Nothing untoward happened, I want you to know."

"You are a professional." Dany walked around her desk and took a seat, scooting it close to her desk. She smirked. "And so I am. You are dismissed Colonel Snow."

Jon waited a moment, studying her. And then he nodded, clicked his heels, and bowed his head. "Ma'am."

The phone rang, distracting her. She picked it up, answering. "Prime Minister Targaryen." She chuckled. "What do you mean Rhaegar? I didn't do anything!"

* * *

It was wrong of her, she thought, but she wanted to know. Dany ended up later that evening in Tyrion's office, nervous and worried. It was simply professional interest. Nothing more or less. She waited for him to finish on the phone and he hung up, looking over at her, weary. "Ma'am?" he asked. "What can I do for you?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch." 

"Ah, yes." Tyrion sighed and she took a seat across from him, waiting. The heavy weight on his shoulders told her what she needed. She didn't want to hear it, but she needed to. He ducked his head, sheepish. "I want you to know I am fully aware of Colonel Snow's background and it did not dissuade me at all from bringing him on board the team. I know you are concerned about his affiliation with the Free Folk?"

She tapped her fingers to her temple, nodding. "I appreciate all viewpoints, but I don't want people to lie to me."

"With all due respect ma'am, he didn't lie. He was undercover with the Free Folk for some time. His loyalties are to Westeros, they always have been." Tyrion smirked. "As far as the Night's Watch loyalties go. They're notorious apolitical. It's what makes them so good at their job. The serve any and all."

"But he is so close to both the North and the Free Folk, and yet we wanted him taking point on these discussions?" Dany crossed her legs. She scowled. "He knew Ygritte Wilde from university."

"Yes, he defends the rights of the people. Northerners and Free Folk, but his pragmatic and smart. That's why I like him."

_They were born on the wrong side of the wall, doesn't make them monsters._ That's what Jon told her once. She agreed wholeheartedly. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, her voice soft. "I refuse to displace any of the Free Folk, no matter what the Northerners want. Expand any and all humanitarian services to them, anyone caught with arms against the North will be prosecuted and Jon Snow can deal with the Northern Council."

Tyrion squinted. "Is there anything else? You're oddly concerned about him."

"I'm fine." She stood and shoved her hands into her pockets. It was all work related. Nothing more or less. She wrinkled her nose. "And if Ygritte Wilde has a problem with it, she can take it up with me."

He chuckled. "Yes Ma'am."

"I’m the bloody Prime Minister of Westeros." Dany left him, wandering the halls for some time, before she ended up in her room, and flopped onto the bed, hands still in her pockets.

The Prime Minister of Westeros and she was alone.

* * *

"Drogon should we listen to some music?" Her fat black cat slowly blinked, his fluffy black tail flicking side to side, atop his cat tree sitting in the window. Dany grunted, forcing herself up, and managed to get off the bed long enough to take off her heels and untuck her blouse and remove her jewelry, but beyond that she had zero intention of doing much of anything. 

She wandered to her phone and removed her headphones, plugging the pods into her ear. She scrolled through, finding one of her favorite songs. Van Halen's "Jump." "Yeah, she murmured, nodding her head along. "Bah, bah, dah dah dah!" 

The happy rock reverberated in her head and she started to dance, bouncing on her heels. She mouthed to the words, pointing her fingers at Drogon, who shot her a terrified expression. He bolted away as she bounced onto the bed. "Come on and _jump_!"

It was just her in the residence and she spun around, over and over, dancing through the rooms, the great dining hall and side stepped down the corridors, getting to the staircase towards the offices. She needed to let loose. Her run later would be welcome and necessary, but this was just _fun_.

She skipped down the stairs, jumping with the music, banging her head, braids flying around. The halls blended together, until she ended up in the throne room, used only for ceremonial purposes, and jumped onto the Iron Throne, standing on the hard seat and finishing out the song, taking a massive leap and flying high into the air, feet kicking behind her and arms out, shouting. "JUMP!"

The song kicked over to a soft ballad on her mixed playlist, volume dropping to small decibels, a slow clap echoing in the empty room. Her eyes widened in fear and she spun around, momentarily panicked. It was Jon Snow, of all fucking people.

She screamed, throwing her phone up into the air, the movement dislodging an AirPod. It tangled in her hair, a magnet or something inside of it attaching to her earring. "Um," she began, barely attempting to maintain a sense of decorum. The Prime Minister of Westeros dancing barefoot through the Iron Throne room? _Fuck_. "So I think I will need those figures on the Northern military's presence in and around the known Free Folk settlements by tomorrow afternoon."

He walked over to her, still smiling, a bit softer than he'd been the last time she'd seen him. His hair was loose this time too, as he wasn't in military uniform. "Of course ma'am." He gestured towards her ear, eyebrows lifting. "May I?"

"What are you...oh." The stuck AirPod. He reached up and detached it from the tangle, handing it to her. As he moved his fingers, they brushed down her jaw. Her skin prickled, gooseflesh pebbling along her arms and back of her neck, despite the lack of chill. She took the silly device and removed the other one, holding them in her fist. Muttering, she ducked her head from him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He licked his lips; they were so perfect, she thought, noting how he did that when he was nervous. Even if he was unruffled, a stoic and steady Northern military man. He furrowed his brow. A faint line appeared between them with the movement. "I want to make sure that we are...alright. Given...everything recently."

"Yes. We are fine." They were professionals. Nothing more or less. She met his gaze, neither one breaking. It went unspoken. Anything between them could not be. It would make things more difficult. She didn’t even think he cared for her. She felt foolish. She had a reputation to maintain. She could not be falling for her staff. It was wrong. 

His gray eyes twinkled, ropes of the tiny white lights that wrapped around the braziers and the sconces reflecting back towards her. She followed the lights, some wrapped up in wreaths and garlands. It was lovely. "I love how they decorate for the holidays, "he murmured, his hands remaining in his pockets, even as he turned, his gaze matching hers. He smiled a little wider. "It's probably the only time of the year that I really enjoy."

"Me too," she whispered. It made her think of families and love and happiness. Even if she didn't have a whole lot of that. She pointed to one of the stained-glass windows, the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, the last monarchs of Westeros, above the Iron Throne. Someone had added hats above them and placed a card in their claws like they were caroling. "Even the dragons are into it."

Jon laughed; it was from his chest, full and baritone. He licked his lips again, whispering. "You should see the North. They really go all out."

"One day," she murmured. They exchanged looks again, long and lingering. He hesitated, mouth opening briefly, about to say something, and then thought against it, closing. He nodded and dismissed himself, walking backwards towards the door a few steps until he turned and left, not another word shared.

Dany fidgeted with the AirPods. She was annoyed she got jealous. It was unbecoming. It was silly and juvenile. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, murmuring. "Get it together. He's just a guy." 

_And he's not yours and probably doesn't even feel the same so it really doesn’t matter._

* * *

It was Yule Eve. 

The irony was not lost on her that at a time for family and love and festivities, Dany was alone in the sumptuous apartment sitting room she had in Maegor’s Holdfast. The kitchens were preparing a meal for her, but nothing fancy or big. She enjoyed the decorations of Yuletide, the stories and the general celebration, but she did not really practice it herself. 

She fell hard onto the overstuffed couch, having finished saying goodbye to Tyrion and the rest of the staff. It had been a good couple of weeks. They weren’t at war with the North or the Free Folk, which was something, although she really wouldn’t mind going after that Ygritte again. She glanced at the bright red suitcase, the correspondence she had to go through that evening, memos and other matters deemed important. 

Sitting up, Dany reached for it and pushed it open, noting the large bundle of Yule cards bound in festive red ribbon. A note atop it from Tyrion said, “Read These.” They must have been the cards from donors, other members, and important people. Ergo, influential, she concluded. “Might as well,” she said to Drogon, who eyed her from his spot on a velvet club chair in the corner. She pulled the ribbon, the silky wrapping falling off to the floor. He sprang on it, happy to have something to do. She chuckled and flicked open the first one. 

_Merry Yule Prime Minister, Best Wishes for the New Season, the Honorable Loras Tyrell._

She made a face, dropping it and flicked open another one. “Same thing,” she murmured, reading almost a word for word recitation from Renly Baratheon, another from the Tarlys, and one from the Tullys. Not one was personal. She was about to give it up, when the corner of a card caught her eye. It was brown, rough kraft paper instead of the slick laminate store-bought illustrations of the others. 

It crinkled when she removed it and the picture on the front was a white wolf howling up at the moon, a sprig of holly drawn beneath. The image spoke to her, encouraged her, and she flicked it open, surprised at the scrawling note inside. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185802593@N06/50658424207/in/dateposted-public/)

“Oh,” she exclaimed softly, covering her lips with her fingers. Her hands trembled, mouth whispering the words again, at least three times. She dropped the card, the way forward absolutely clear. 

Drogon jumped when she lurched to her feet, tripping on her high heels, and diving for the phone on the end table, lifting it up and not bothering to wait for the operator to greet her. “Hello yes, I need a car!”

* * *

“Where to ma’am?”

Dany bundled her red coat around her, tying the sash tight, calling ahead to Barristan, who had slipped into the driver’s side while she ran to take her spot. “Street of Silk please, the dodgy end.”

The single police car accompanying them kept the siren off, red and blue strobe light flashing off the car’s interior, both speeding off towards the only place she knew where Jon might be. Beyond that, she was at a loss, and short of breaking several laws to find out, she hadn’t a clue how else to figure where he could be. So she hoped he was there, and they could find him quickly.

Mercifully, the ride was short, affording her little time to dwell, but also little time to admire the beautiful Yule lights that lit up King’s Landing. Barristan turned onto the street from one of the cross roads and paused. “Ma’am,” he said, sighing. “We’re here.”

“Oh seven hells,” Dany cursed, pushing forward and gripping the headrests. She cringed, gazing at the longest street she’d ever seen in her life, rows and rows of houses. “It’s the longest street in the world!” _How the bloody seven hells am I going to find him now!?_

Well, Targaryens were nothing if not resourceful. They had once birthed dragons. Surely she could discover a single Northman on this godsforsaken street. It appeared to go all the way to Essos. She flung open the door, standing behind it a moment, and did a series of mental calculations. It was possible. It could be done. She folded her coat over her front, leaning into the car. “Alright Barristan. Let’s crack on.”

"Ma'am?" Barristan asked, throwing open  his door, uttering a soft curse. She was well ahead of him, marching up to a door and knocking, brazen on it. He instantly reached for his sidearm, in case. "Ma'am! We do not know who could be in there."

"Hush."

The door swung open, an incredibly surprised Varys Bird, one of the reporters in the press pool, standing there. "Madam Prime  Minister ?" he asked.

Dany flashed a grin. Definitely not, Jon was not in this house. "Good evening, Merry Yule, just checking to see how things are going. Part of a  door-to-door service for our constituents. Have a good evening!" 

Varys watched her, amused, as she rushed off, Barristan hurrying behind. No doubt it would be in the papers soon enough that the Prime Minister was running door to door on the longest street in King's Landing. 

They hit several more, zig-zagging across the street, a couple other security teams hitting other houses. The terrace houses were tall, narrow, and some bedecked with decorations, others rather staid. Some were empty, no one home. Dany didn't know what she expected, as she knocked on yet another door, feeling foolish. She waited for someone to open, turning to Barristan. "Call someone and find out his address."

"Ma'am, I think that is..."

The door opened before Barristan could give his thoughts, a large group of children on the other side. Dany beamed at him, waving. "Merry Yule! Um...is...does a Jon live here?"

"My name is Walder Frey," one of the boys said. Another piped up, a girl. "And I'm Walda."

"And my name is Walder too!"

At least four other little boys said their name was Walder, which Dany thought must make things very complicated, and after trying to sing a few carols for them — they would not let her leave  otherwise— ascertained Jon did not live with them and rushed off again. 

What must have been a hundred houses later, along with Barristan saying they couldn't get in touch with anyone who might have his address, Dany wearily leaned against the frame of one of  the houses, banging hard on it. "Hello , does Jon live here?" she muttered, when a very attractive young man with a buzzcut and pushing up a welding mask from his face, answered the door.

The young man frowned at her. "No, I'm sorry, he doesn't."

"Oh alright then..." She turned, not another word, when the man said something that set her heart flying. 

"He lives next door."

Dany cried out, arms flying up, triumphant. "Ah! Yes, well..."

"Excuse me." He pointed the mask at her, chuckling. "Are you the Prime Minister?"

"Yes , I am!" Dany was about to turn, when she saw a beautiful modern art piece, made of twisted metal, on a pedestal in his house. She pointed to it, transfixed. "That is a lovely piece."

"Oh yes, it's mine. I'm a steel artist," the man said, smiling shyly. He sobered quickly. "Ma'am."

Dany looked at Barristan and nodded  quickly , always thinking a mile a minute. "Get his information, I'd like to see more of that. Thank you!" She rushed off, Barristan directing someone to get the information from the man. She almost vaulted over the grate between the two  houses and pushed hard on the gate leading up to the stairs of the home beside this one. 

It was nondescript. A couple lights burning in the windows. A simple wreath on the door. She stood and took several breaths. _Steady, calm, focus._ She lifted her knuckles to rap sharply, as there was no doorbell, when it swung open without warning. 

"Oh my goodness!" 

"Seven hells!"

"Rickon don't say that!"

"Bloody hells, that's the Prime  Minister!"

"Fuck seriously? Wait  til ' I tell Gendry!"

"You're lying!"

"No I'm not!"

It was like she'd opened up a portal to another, very noisy universe. There were a dozen or so people at the base of the stairs feeding to the entryway, everyone piled up and preparing  ot leave, arms half in coats and hats and scarfs flying. Most of the people had red hair and blue eyes, and Dany instantly recognized Ned, in a dark suit and tie, his overcoat half over his shoulders. 

He lifted it up and over, eyes wide, confused. "Prime  Minister ? Is everything alright? Oh my...did I..." He whipped out his phone, worried. "Did I miss a meeting?"

"No, no, I just..." she trailed off, smiling, exhausted and thrilled. He was here! She blinked several times. "Um, is...is Jon here?"

"Where the fuck is my fucking coat?"

Dany's head whipped up at the string of cursing, locking eyes with a shocked Jon Snow, standing in the center of the staircase, one foot almost ready to drop to the next step. He froze in place, mouth open, and gray eyes large and round on hers. She gulped, paralyzed on the doormat. 

Until her fingers lifted, twitching in what one might call a wave, others could just call an involuntary jerk. "Jon," she breathed.

"Dany."

All the Starks rolled their heads up to Jon, mixed fascination and horror over their faces. In the case of the older redheaded woman, a pinched, annoyed expression. She arched her brows, hands resting on the shoulders of a young boy who was wearing a green kraken costume. "I'm afraid we do not have time for this, Jon. We're late!"

Ned apologized, hand now on his wife's shoulder. "I am so sorry Madam Prime Minister; it's the school Yule pageant and we're running terribly behind schedule."

"I had to sew this costume by hand, eight is a lot of legs you know," his wife complained. 

Dany did not understand how a kraken needed to be in the Yule pageant, but what did she know of such things. She could not tear her eyes from Jon, who remained on the steps. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a woman similar to him in looks taking out her phone, snapping a photo. A redheaded woman who was probably her sister scowled and jabbed her in the side with her elbow, while a handsome man about Jon's age just grinned. A young man in a wheel chair rolled his eyes, while the kid in the kraken costume made no sound, just frowned up at everyone.

She stuttered, unblinking. She hoped Jon knew why she was there. It was so silly in hindsight. "I just...need...Jon."

His eyes widened, Ned frowning. "Need Jon?" he repeated.

"Oh some military matters, you see."

"We're going to be late Ned!"

"It doesn't matter," Jon blurted. He scowled. "Catelyn, it doesn't matter, you're late anyway."

Catelyn, nonplussed, continued. "I do not know what is going on right now between you and my..." Her lip curled. "Nephew, but we're very late, we really must be going."

"Well, then..." Dany stammered, forced to the side by the paper mâché kraken costume, legs hitting her at the side as Catelyn bustled them out. She needed to talk to Jon. "Well um, we...we can drive you!"

"It's just around the corner," Jon said, shoving his arms into his wool pea coat. He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

The handsome man clapped his shoulder. "Oh it sure does matter Jonny." He offered his hand to her. "Robb Stark, pleasure to finally meet you Madam Prime Minister."

_Ah, so this was the famous Robb Stark, heir apparent to the North_ , Dany thought, her hand captured in his large ones, shaking vigorously. She smiled weakly. "Hello. Nice to meet you...my...my security can get you to the school if you're...in a..." she sighed the last bit, everyone but Jon having bustled out, the brunette woman giving him an obvious wink before she skipped to the house next door. "Hurry."

Jon said nothing, walking by her and to the cars, where the kraken-clad young boy scrambled into the backseat of her car. She rushed after him, Ned locking up the house behind her. She slid into one seat while Jon took the other, Barristan speaking quickly with one of the other security members and Catelyn. 

She caught sight of him over top the bulbous homemade kraken head, smiling nervously. Jon returned it and immediately gazed ahead. They started driving, creeping off the curb to the main street. "It's just around the corner," he offered, breaking the tense silence.

"Oh yes, well...I..." She hadn't thought this far ahead. A consummate politician and she was as nervous as a schoolgirl with her crush. She pulled on one of her rings, stammering. "I just wanted to thank you for the card."

At the same time, Jon turned his head, blurting out. "I want you to know nothing happened with Ygritte, I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about someone who is my boss...and...the most powerful woman in Westeros."

They had literally been driving for a couple minutes and turned two corners, when immediately after his confession, the boy between them shouted. "We're here!"

Dany shot a look out the window at a huge school, cars and people all around them, pouring out and up the stairs. "Oh gods, that was just around the corner." She grunted, feet flying up as the kid— Rickon she believed she heard someone call him— climbed over her, stepping and smacking her with the tentacles from his costume. 

Jon pushed the kid out and leaned over her, shutting the door. He fell back into his seat, the two of them left alone in the still car. They were absolutely silent, until both started at the same time. 

"Jon, I—" 

"— Dany, I wanted to say..."

They stopped, chuckling, ducking their heads sheepishly. Their fingers rested side-by-side on the leather seat, a hairsbreadth apart. She lifted her eyes, gazing through her lashes at his earnest, bashful expression. Gone was the stern, confident Jon from when she first met, replaced by the one who had written that card to her. “Jon,” she whispered, earnest. “I’m sorry for my reaction. It was wrong and unprofessional and…I just…”

“Dany, I want you to know nothing happened.” He grabbed her hand, squeezing hard, rambling. “I told you, I knew Ygritte from university, she came on to me, I didn’t do or say anything, and she was kissing me, and then you walked in and…I want you to know that you can trust me and I’m so, so sorry you felt you couldn’t and…” he trailed off, scowling. “I’m not good with this.”

That made two of them. She smiled, whispering. “I think you’re doing fine. I didn’t…I’m not supposed to fall for my employees, but…” _Love didn’t work that way._ She hesitated and just plunged ahead, like he did. “I didn’t know if you felt the same is all. I was so worried…then I got your card.” 

“Oh,” he breathed, fully understanding. He leaned towards her, about to say something, when someone rapped loudly on the car window, the two of them jumping apart. He rolled the window down, glaring at the brown-haired young woman she thought might be his cousin. “What do you want Arya?”

Arya peered in, waving at her. “Hello, Madam Prime Minister.” She addressed Jon next. “Come on, Rickon wants to make sure you see him.” 

This wasn’t the time or place. She patted his hand, reassuring him. “Go on in. I don’t want to distract from the pageant, you should go in."

He paused; no doubt surprised that’s what she was planning to say. She really didn't know what there was to say, sitting in the cold backseat of her car, outside of a children's school. He looked over his shoulder at the school and then to her. The cogs in his mind were going, she recognized. "Hang on," he said, holding his hand out. "Don't go anywhere...I have an idea."

Dany reclined in the seat, watching him scramble from the car and take off up the stairs, amused. She tightened her grip on the edge of her coat, flame red, wondering how he planned to hide her exactly. She wasn't really easy to hide, silver hair, purple eyes, and a bright red coat. 

Leave it to the special forces guy to figure it out, she mused, smiling in anticipation.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?"

"Aye, I went to this school before I returned to the North, know it like the back of my hand."

"And how well do you know that?" Dany teased, letting Jon lead her by the hand through the school kitchens and around a bay of lockers. The bustle of people grew louder the closer they got to the auditorium, and when they turned a corner, she gasped, hearing her name shouted as she practically crashed into a tall silver-haired man. 

"Dany!"

"Ah!" she yelped, arms flying to the sides, stunned to find her brother Rhaegar and his two children behind him. She flung her arms around his neck, Rhaegar speaking rapid Valyrian. 

"I tell your PA about these things, had no idea you even thought to come!" He pulled back, kissing her cheeks and grinning. "This is so wonderful!"

Dany gestured between the two of them. "Um, Rhae this is...Jon, Jon my brother Rhaegar and my niece and nephew Aegon and Rhaenys...look at..." She frowned, pointing to Rhaenys's costume. "Are you dressed as a unicorn?"

Rhaenys preened, in a white costume with a rainbow-colored horn sprouting from her head. "I'm the first unicorn!"

"There was more than one unicorn present at the first Yule celebration?"

"Duh."

"Oh well then." She felt Barristan nudging her from the side and Jon tugging at her hand. They would get strange looks soon, people coming down the hallway in packs. "Um, I'll see you later Rhae, good luck Rhaenys, Good luck Egg!"

Rhaegar beamed, waving. "See you later Stormy."

Jon shot her a curious look, lip quirked, and her cheeks pinked at the childhood nickname. "Stormy?"

"Long story, just a nickname, come on then."

He ran them through a door and up a set of stairs, down another set, laughing the whole way. She giggled too, heels clicking on the slate floor, pushing through ropes and curtains, until he came to a stop and nudged a heavy red curtain aside, quiet. "Here, we can stay here," he whispered, pointing through a slight gap in the red velvet, through which she saw a huge auditorium filling slowly with parents and other family members.

The excitement was palpable, filling her up, all the proud families and the eager children gathering on the stage to show off their acting and their singing skills. She watched, between the curtains, unable to believe she was actually at a primary school observing something as silly as this, but as fun too. It made her long for a day when perhaps she could be one of the parents, cheering on a child who was dressed as a kraken, a unicorn, a butterfly, a tree, or a... 

She pointed, whispering to Jon. "Is that a lobster?"

"I think so," he murmured, stifling a laugh. She giggled, feeing his warmth behind her, both watching the production, trying not to cheer or applaud and draw attention to themselves hiding in the curtain folds. 

The show went on, eventually coming to an end, one of the teachers announcing that Rhaenys Targaryen would lead them all in a production of "All I Want for Yuletide is You", a popular song. She lit up, not knowing her niece could sing, forever grateful now she was here to see it. 

Rhaenys had shed her unicorn costume, her dark hair plaited down her back, in a sparkling dress and tights. She stood at the microphone and began to sing, soft and slow, and then suddenly everything turned into a raucous display, teachers in the choir singing, dancing, and every other child on the stage clapping along, the audience joining in.

It was downright deafening, the floor shaking beneath her feet. 

And Jon was closer than ever.

She gasped, her breath catching, his lips hovering near hers. Their heartbeats no doubt were screaming out of their chests, fingers brushing together as she turned slowly to face him. It was there, the excitement, the energy, the nerves...the wanting. Finally coming together in an explosion of need.

All the music faded to a dull tone when Jon finally touched his mouth over hers, a brush of the lips, not even breathing. She leaned forward, seeking more, and suddenly he was there. 

It was the most glorious sensation, his arms around her, and hers around his, hand splayed over his shoulders, and her body flush against his chest. She moaned into his mouth and took in his, fingers gripping the back of his head, tangled in his curls, and his in hers. They were the only ones who existed, in this cocoon, hidden from the world, from all the problems and the noise. 

She did not even realize that the music had stopped, as had the dancing, and it was no longer dark, oddly enough. In fact, it was quite bright. She blinked, eyes rolling up, realizing the curtain was no longer wrapped around them, but had swept to the sides, revealing… _them_.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, breaking away from Jon, who let out a similar startled noise. They stood in place, gaping, realizing what had happened.

The entire auditorium, all the children, the teacher choir, were essentially silent. Aside from the clicking of phones and cameras, flashes from each as everyone took note of the scene unfolding on the stage. 

The Prime Minister of Westeros making out with a very attractive man. 

At a school Yule pageant.

“What do we do?” Jon hissed out of the corner of his mouth, his gray eyes shining from the floodlights on them. 

It appeared as though they’d pulled open the curtains to reveal a large banner shouting in glittery writing “Merry Yule!” And instead got an eyeful. 

Dany’s lips slowly peeled over her lips, her fingers lifting up on their own accord. “Just smile,” she directed, from the corner of her mouth, teeth clenched, grinning wide. People began to cheer and clap, waving. “And wave.” Jon did the same, smiling and waving. She laughed, taking his hand between them, lifting it up. Everyone continued, the happiness palpable, whistling, calling her name, and cameras flashing even brighter. “And take a bow.”

Jon slowly bowed from the waist as she dropped her ankle behind her in a brief curtsey, laughing and grinning, facing him again. He was not embarassed; she thought hse should be, glad he wasn’t either. It was actually very funny, trying to hide her presence at the pageant and now everyone in Westeros knew about them. She gave another little bow, and hurried to the side, people still cheering. 

He was on her heels, the two of them unable to contain themselves the second they got out of sight of the auditorium, instantly bursting into giggles, falling into each other’s arms. “Oh gods!” Jon laughed, arms around her. “Fuck, I’m never hearing the end of that.”

“I can already hear Tyrion’s brain exploding,” she giggled, taking his face in her hands, pressing a kiss to his soft, perfect lips. He was smiling so wide against her mouth she could hardly kiss him, giggling against him, floating on air, happiness keeping her aloft. She ducked her head, eyeing him through her lashes, slyly smiling. “Do you have plans for tomorrow morning?”

“I probably should be opening presents with my family, but…” His words fell away, eyes darkening, and her stomach jumped in anticipation. He spun her around, mouth falling over hers once more, murmuring. “There’s only one present I want to open…Madam Prime Minister.”

“Good.” She grabbed his hand, yanking him towards the exit. “Because I think I have the same thing in mind.”

* * *

It was the first Yule morning in her life where Dany was actually eager to wake up, to start truly savoring the day, even if it was slightly difficult, her body warm and loose under the thick duvet, cuddled against a warm, hard chest. She murmured her approval at this development, humming into her pillow. She wiggled against the body behind her turning to look up, permanent smile on her face. “Merry Yule,” she whispered, blinking sleepily up at Jon, who gazed down at her, his finger tracing her lips. She kissed his fingertip, sighing. He said nothing, just watched her. She giggled, a little nervous. “What is it?”

She lifted onto her elbows, leaning on them as Jon moved over enough to make room for her against him. He dropped his hand around her to cage her in, which felt even warmer and cozier. “Nothing, I just…” he sighed, quirking his lips up to a sweet smile. “I can’t remember the last Yule I woke up and was just…happy. Not looking forward for everything to be over and going back to my house or something.”

“Me too,” she whispered. She slid back down, head dropping to the pillow, his face dropping to hers, kissing her. 

They shared a long series of kisses, breaking to breathe, to shift position, but neither wanted to move from the bed or stop holding the other. It felt so odd, to be so close to someone she hardly knew. He broke away, nuzzling her nose, quiet. “I think Tyrion’s been calling you. Or someone. Your phone fell off the nightstand and I think it died.”

“Good, because…” She felt silly, after all they’d experienced together, and the passion and activities they’d shared the previous evening. Her cheeks pinked, fingers tightening around his bicep. “Because all I want today is…you.”

Jon beamed. “Dany, I said already. I’m yours.”

Dany laughed, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. It might be too soon to say the words, but she knew he felt the same, both of them coming together again. “I love you Jon,” she whispered.

He grinned wide. “I love you too Dany.”

She laughed again, accepting the long kiss he dropped back to her lips, the duvet lifting up and over them, tangling with each other again. It might have been too soon, but that didn’t matter. If you couldn’t say it at Yule, she thought, well then, when can you? So they did. Again and again and again.

**fin.**


End file.
